Barch remembered the bugling Podruods, the frantic fat man, the Klau raft with the black arms dangling below. "How often do the Klau hunt?"
"Every eight, ten days, if the weather suits. They are the Quodaras District Klau; Parkwarkz Ztvo is their region. The Xolboar Klau hunt in Poriflammes." He pointed to the valley entering the Palkwarkz Ztvo near the mouth.
Sudden enlightenment came to Barch. "So-we live in a hunting preserve; we're tolerated in order to provide the Klau with sport!"
"The Klau planet is a week distant; the Klau must amuse themselves."
Barch said thoughtfully, "I could certainly amuse myself hunting Podruods and Klau."
Kerbol digested the idea. "You think in strange directions. Very strange."
Barch laughed sourly. "I don't see anything strange about it. If the Klau hunt me, it's only fair that I hunt them."
"That is not the theory of the hunt." Kerbol spoke politely.
"It's not the Klau theory; it is my theory. Do we have to live by Klau theory?"
Kerbol said thoughtfully, "It was too hot at the quarry."
A dull explosion from over Kebali Ridge jarred the air of the valley. "There they shoot now," said Kerbol. "Notice the double shock?"
"No."
"The charge was ten cans of abiloid, a twentieth cut of the super. The super smashes the rock; the abiloid pushes it down."
"You seem to know a great deal about explosives."
Kerbol nodded gloomily. "Five years I drilled and charged, drilled and charged. And always in the heat. I ran into the forest and came over Mount Kebali to Palkwarkz Ztvo, where I must take my chances with the hunters."
Barch asked curiously, "What is that black thing that hangs under the Klau raft?"
"Those are"-Kerbol stopped, grasped for a word-"pulling things. In factories they lift loads. The Klau grow them; they are half-alive."
"The Klau carry other weapons?"
"Yes. They shoot across long distances; a little splinter enters a man's belly, explodes. The man is dead."
Barch looked up and down the dark valley. The mist had risen, a current of air smelling of rotting vegetation blew on his face. From the far distance sounded a harsh clanking, a screech. Barch muttered, "At night a whole regiment of Podruods could come up here."
Kerbol moved uneasily. "That has never happened."
"But it might," said Barch.
"You think strange, uncomfortable thoughts," said Kerbol.
On the following day the overcast was high, the wind light. The tribesmen hung close to the cave. But no bugling cries were heard and the Klau did not appear.
The next day was the same, with a near calm across the valley. Again the men of the tribe ventured only a few hundred yards from the cliff, and at the evening meal there was only a few scrapings of gruel in the pot.
The third day dawned blustery, with ragged gray clouds breaking over Mount Kebali like surf over a sea-wall.
Clet ordered Flatface, Barch, the Modoks and the Calbyssinians out to grub for meal-nuts, while the remaining men filed into the forest to hunt meat.
The bugling of the Podruods sounded an hour later. Barch and the Calbyssinians jumped up, seized the half-filled bags, hurried back around the hillside.
Across the valley rang the hunting cries, converging near the dominating bluff; looking over his shoulder Barch glimpsed the ominous dark shadow of the Klau raft.
The hunters came filing back to the cave one at a time, wide-eyed with exhaustion.
Across the valley the bugle calls suddenly ceased. Standing in the crevice Barch saw the black raft slipping down the valley toward the notch.
Four hunters had not yet returned: Clet, Moranko, the two Splangs, Chevrr and Skurr.
Clet slipped in first, his bony red face impassive. Then came Moranko carrying a dead creature that looked like a wooly caterpillar. Minutes passed. Chevrr crossed the flat. He muttered a few words to Clet, jerked his thumb across the valley.
Skurr, the Splang, had been hunted down and killed.
On sudden impulse Barch dropped into the seat opposite to where Clet sat whetting his knife. "I think we should do something about these hunts."
Clet turned him a brief cool glance, returned to his work. Steel rasped on stone, lamplight flickered and winked on the metal as the big red hands methodically stroked. Barch raised his voice: "We don't necessarily need to skulk around this valley." He paused; Clet showed no interest.
Trying to keep anger out of his voice, Barch said, "Every week somebody else gets killed."
"More always come," said Clet. "Too many in the cave is not good."
"Next time the Klau hunt, they might get you-or me." Clet shrugged. "We should hunt them instead-kill the Podruods, kill the Klau."
"No, no," said Clet impatiently. "Then a warship comes down to kill us all. We live good now, hey?" He laughed complacently. "Food, women, hey? Same way for many, many years. Best not to change."
Barch rose slowly to his feet, staring in frustration down at Clet, who glanced up impassively, then returned to his whetstone.
CHAPTER VI
Five days passed, low angry days full of rain and stormy gusts that tilled Big Hole with eery whistling sounds.
The sixth day was quiet, with a high overcast rippled with fish-scale black. Barch found Clet eating his breakfast of toasted meat and gruel cake. "Today the Klau might come again. If we went down to the notch, and hid where they enter the valley-"
Clet shook his head stubbornly, at the same time gnawing a bone.
Komeitk Lelianr knelt by the fire, tending the gruel cakes which baked on a hot rock. She turned her head, spoke shortly. "Don't argue with him, Roy; he's very single-minded."
Clet looked up. "What does she say?" He dropped the bone, put his wide red hands on the table.
Barch looked down at him in disgust. Blood raced through his body. He felt strong. His voice came out harsh and deep. "Maybe you want to live in a cave all your life like an animal!"
Clet's eyes gleamed under the black eyebrows; he seemed to be listening not to Barch so much as to an inner secret voice.
"There's ways of leaving Magarak, if we'd work together."
Clet grunted contemptuously, turned back to his bone. "Now comes the crazy talk."
Barch was taken aback. "Crazy talk?"
Clet's big white teeth glittered in a grin. He flourished the bone toward Komeitk Lelianr. "She told me much about you," he said. "You are a crazy man; you would fly through the space like a magician." His voice rose, his eyes glittered. "Now, no more crazy talk; this is Palkwarkz Ztvo, I am Clet."
Barch slowly went to the mouth of the cave, took his bow and quiver of arrows.
"Ho!" Clet called gruffly. "Where do you go?"
"None of your damn business."
From back in the cave came the sudden scrape of the bench; Barch saw Clet reaching for his own bow. He ducked out the cave mouth, ran across the open space. He glimpsed Clet standing in the crevice like a heroic statue of Mars: bow bent, arrow tense with imminent mission. Barch flung himself to the ground; the arrow sang over his head. He rose, dodged into the trees where he pulled an arrow into bis own bow, waited, pale and shaking.
After a careless survey of the valley, Clet returned inside the cave.
Barch walked morosely down-slope under the flapping fronds. An inglorious exit, he thought. He stopped, looked back toward the cave. He recalled the first time he had seen Komeitk Lelianr, stepping jauntily from the circus-striped space-ball. If she had noticed him at all, it had been as part of the local scene, a native. He felt a sudden glimmer of insight into her mind. Poor devil, thought Barch, she even found Earth food revolting… Well, that was all water under the bridge. And now what? Probably, after Clet's temper had run its course, he could return to the cave. And so the years would pass, while he grew older and his fire died out.